I wonder
by Kirsty1
Summary: Willow in with an unlikley future (or is it?)


I wonder. Well, that's basically what I do and it seems it's all I  
  
do. Wonder. Maybe the value of wondering is not seen in today's  
  
society. Wondering helps us to decide the future, like I wonder what  
  
I'll have for dinner tonight. Or remember the past in a light that  
  
is not harsh and cutting like, I wonder what life would have been  
  
like if She was alive or if She loved me the way I loved and do love  
  
her. But mostly it's these types of wondering that have got me where  
  
I am today.  
  
But where am I today? I hear you ask yourself. I'll say I'm in  
  
Hell. Not the literal kind, so don't worry sitting there listening to  
  
me ramble on will not suck you into some portal which will deliver  
  
you to hell in a hand basket so you can listen to me forever. So sit  
  
comfortably and maybe if you listen hard enough you will hear what  
  
i'm saying and not saying. And maybe you will listen and not make  
  
the mistakes I did. Maybe my mistake was that I loved too much do you  
  
think that is possible?  
  
I needed her and I wanted her and yet I ruined her by bringing her  
  
into my world, why did I do all these things? Is it because I loved  
  
her too much? Perhaps, but that's just another thing to wonder about  
  
isn't it? Which brings be nicely onto my original topic - you see how  
  
I went around a nice neat circle? Like most things in life.  
  
Wondering. Yes I remember now, I was going to explain where I am  
  
today and how I got here. Well I have been told that the beginning is  
  
the best place to start.  
  
My name is Willow Rosenberg and I'm an alcoholic, my story is real  
  
although terribly hard to believe, but trust me it happened. Just  
  
like this. Ten years ago I was at college. I wasn't happy, but  
  
content. My boyfriend of over two years had just abandoned me -  
  
which was when I first experimented with drink - but then I met a  
  
dream. Well it seemed like a dream. I met a girl named Tara and I  
  
loved her more than I loved anyone in my life. I also had some great  
  
friends who loved and needed me. But I needed more than friendship.  
  
I needed someone who would love me forever and in a way no one else  
  
could. I hoped and prayed that this shy and wonderful girl would be  
  
the one and I thanked every god that has ever been worshiped for the  
  
fact that she loved me in return, but this is when my story starts to  
  
go sour.  
  
After about a year of meeting her she was firmly in my life and that  
  
of my friends and I wasn't just content, I was deliriously happy. We  
  
all as a group fought against evil - and that is meant literally -  
  
and mostly we won, but we knew that our luck would eventually run  
  
out. It seemed I had used most of my ration of luck when I found  
  
Tara because I never had enough to keep her. Someone, I don't want to  
  
talk about her, took her from me not in body but in mind. I must  
  
apologise at the beginning I misled you into believing that she was  
  
dead, but this is not true she is very much alive, she just doesn't  
  
know it. Her mind was taken from her shortly after that first year  
  
and not matter how I tried I could not get it back for her or even  
  
help her find it again. I failed her. I failed them all.  
  
To make matters worse, in an attempt to make her better, my best  
  
friend died as well. I miss her but I know she is gone. I go and  
  
visit her grave every year on her birthday. I light a candle and I  
  
tell her that I miss her and that I love her. But with Tara it was  
  
worse. She was with me, I could feel her breathing or lying beside  
  
me on the bed, but I knew she wasn't really there. She was lost  
  
somewhere, looking for me, calling to me, but I was helpless. I  
  
couldn't take it anymore and if there had been someone to look after  
  
Tara for me I would have ended my life there and then and hopefully  
  
have met Tara's spirit over on the other side. But Tara's body was  
  
here and there was always the hope that one of us would find a way,  
  
but in between times I escaped my problems by drinking a bottle of  
  
whisky a day. I ran away to a place in my mind where Buffy (my best  
  
friend) was still alive and Tara was still herself and everything was  
  
seen through rose tinted glasses. And every morning I would come  
  
crashing back to a world where I had none of these things.  
  
And that's the hardest time of day when you wake up and remember, as  
  
if for the first time that they're gone and have to grieve again and  
  
again and again. Until one day I could not grieve again, I knew if I  
  
did then it would kill me. So with ten years worth of hangovers and a  
  
moment of clarity, I knew that even thought my friend and girlfriend  
  
would give me sympathy they would feel shame and sadness about what I  
  
was doing to them and their memory.  
  
For the first time in ten years, my loneliness and despair were  
  
overtaken by shame and I stood up, dusted myself off, and went to see  
  
some of my old friends - who I then realised I hadn't seen much in  
  
the last ten years and they welcomed me back and loved me and needed  
  
me.  
  
So your wondering what happened to Tara over these ten years while I  
  
lay drunk? I had put her needs first - the only selfless deed I did  
  
in 10 years - and put her in a institution, but didn't abandon her.  
  
I made sure it was open and bright and I would stand at the fence a  
  
few days a week so that I could see her in the large garden. She  
  
needed stability and special help neither of which I could supply.  
  
Now I face my fear and go into the complex to visit once a week and I  
  
think she recognises me - well I hope so. And now you are all  
  
wondering - you see the theme is there - why I said I was in hell.  
  
Because every day I have to live in the world I spent so long trying  
  
to escape and it seems I am being punished for some awful crime I'm  
  
sure I could not have committed. And I have nothing but this  
  
horrible life of wondering set out before me. So now my speech draws  
  
to a close and the only thing left to wonder is if I will leave this  
  
meeting and go straight to the nearest bar where the bartender will  
  
know my name and welcome me back with very open arms and an equally  
  
open cash register and if I don't go tonight, will I go after the  
  
next meeting? Or the next? But even I don't know the answer to that  
  
one. Until I get home and firmly bolt the door behind me, so my  
  
friends, this is something we shall have to wonder together. 


End file.
